Interview with a perfumer: Andy Tauer from Tauer Perfumes

People know Andy Tauer from his marvelous perfumes (click for reviews:L'air du desert marocain, Rêverie au Jardin, Le Maroc pour elle, Lonestar Memories and Orris), his informative blog and generous sampling program for all and his completely adorable character that simply slips through everything he touches.
It was thus with great pleasure that I interviewed him for Perfume Shrine one quite evening and he kindly provided us with an insight into the fascinating world of Tauer Perfumes and his mind.
Sipping Earl Grey tea and studiously going over his replies I can see just how attentive to detail he is, yet retains some spontaneity of character that accounts for his open nature.
Alors, then!

PS: Hello Andy! Nice to chat with you.
There is something that people have been curious about and ask me from time to time. Those who have been reading your blog know that you do have another job apart from perfumery. Yet you do dedicate a large part of your time and work into creating those lovely compositions that have perfume lovers going "ahhh" all the time. What prompted you to first start up on this?

AT: Hello to you and your readers! I started making scented alcoholic solutions a couple of years ago. I call them scented alcoholic solutions because know, looking back with a smile, I would not call them perfumes anymore. My first steps into the world of perfumery were rather embarrassing; hopeless trials to make something coherent with only natural materials. Later, I was introduced to Vero Kern, my perfumery friend and body in arms. Pascal Wehrle, the shop owner of Medieval art& vie in Zurich, introduced me to her and it was the beginning of a friendship at first sight. I owe her a lot: She introduced me (me being a chemist!) to the world of synthetics. And it was she who showed me how to turn "the light on" in compositions. Pascal Wehrle on the other hand, a dear friend since close to 20 years now, was the kick starter to make a fragrance for a shop, his shop. I was unemployed in 2004, having lots of time and no job for quite a while. It was his idea to come up with a scent for his shop where he sells (among other things) Moroccan crafts. Le Maroc pour elle was my first "commercial" scent, and it was born during dinner at my place. What followed is a funny story, still developing, somewhat absurd in a sense, never really planned. I tend -regular readers of my blog know this- not to take things too seriously. This attitude helped me a lot to cope with mistakes and try the impossible. Create and produce outstanding perfumes at a reasonable price.

PS: Indeed it is so. And you have been blogging for two years! Do you find blogging on perfume to be a reward unto itself? Readers compliment your candour and your letting them glimpse into the creative process (I know I do!). For you personally, is it rewarding to share these thoughts? Do you appreciate the feedback or get ideas from readers?

AT: Looking back, it was the internet and a somewhat personal online presence in my blog that made all the difference. Again: I had no plan and started a somewhat naif blog, because I liked the idea of sharing thoughts and ideas. Later, I got to know part of the perfume lovers community and I liked the idea getting folks involved. To blog has become important for me. Sometimes, when writing about a trial and the disastrous result, I get new ideas by just writing about it. I love it when my readers comment and bring in their ideas, or wishes.
Of course, at the end of the day, I will always follow my nose and my own vision for a new fragrance. But I remember for instance Maria B.'s comment on a frankincense trial, wishing more patchouli! Which at the end turned into a new twist. Sometimes, perfume lovers comment on something that I would not have expected. For instance: I published a prototype picture of my new Lonestar Memories label for the flacon. I got -contrary to what I expected- somewhat negative comments. Thus, I
decided to come up with alternatives for the label and have folks vote on it. Finally, although I am not a native English speaker (the blog is in English), I love to write. It helps me to get along with "la condition humaine", to deal with life.

PS: Yes, I think it helps us all. Now, a question I always ask when dealing with perfumers ~ do you find that the quality of the ingredients is of lesser, equal or greater importance than the innovation or beauty of the formula? In short: could one create great art with cheap paints or great music with garbage like Stomp do, if we translate the concept in perfumery? Or is this impossible?

AT: You know~ I always use the analogy to painting. Creating fragrances is like painting with scents and molecules. Maybe this analogy is close to me because I like to paint. At least I did when I had more time. I have no doubt that you can leave a great painter for a week in the desert with nothing else than water, food, char coal and a nice flat stone to draw upon with the coal. At the end of the week you will find a masterpiece in the desert.
{At this point I find myself nodding in agreement.}

Now, to answer your question, we might want to look for another analogy: Music. The perfume formula is like the notes on a piece of paper. To make a symphony alive you need musicians and instruments. Good musicians and good instruments. The music that you hear is then the manifestation of the notes on paper and -to finish the analogy- the fragrance you smell is the materialisation of an idea, written down as formula. You need a good formula to make a good scent, coming up with the formula is the creative act. The better the formula, the more robust it is, allowing for minor quality of certain ingredients. The shorter the formula the more difficult it will be to compensate missing ingredients quality.

And then he animatedly goes on to express himself more clearly saying that a perfume formula is robust when it allows for small changes in ingredients (whether this is amounts or quality) without major changes in the detected scent quality. Therefore it MUST be robust !he stresses that~ otherwise its production would be difficult.
I have no problem understanding that. It seems logical enough: The more robust a formula is the more it will allow for individual components to be of minor quality. It seems therefore to be that a good formula allows for minor quality of some (not all!) ingredients. This explains some comments on niche or upscale perfumes that talk about synthetics that yet manage to smell terrific.

But then {he goes on}: Can you make a masterpiece with cheap stuff in perfumery? I don't think so. Can you make good perfumes with cheap ingredients? Yes, for sure! Can you make dreadful perfumes with the most expensive ingredients? Yes, unfortunately, yes.

PS: This is often the pitfall of many! {I laugh}

AT: Maybe one last aspect: It depends what you want to do with-let's say: Jasmine. You need it to round up edges and give a little twist, then you might use your everyday jasmine, pumped up with some synthetics. If you want your jasmine to dominate and be a shining column, holding your fragrance together, you might go for the Moroccan quality.

PS. Since you mentioned jasmine, and this is probably something that you get asked all the time: what are your favourite notes and ingredients? Do they evoke something particular for you or do they pose some technical challenge that makes them intriguing to work with?

AT: Well, I feel I change my favourite notes like my shirts. One day it is frankincense, one day vetiver or okoumal. But I have my notes I always come back to. I love my woods, and I love my rose and ..jasmine. When composing I always try to integrate new notes, and while doing so I learn how to master them. But like for every perfumer things boil often down to the usual suspects. And I must admit: I still love my naturals. These natural extracts are so inspiring. One day you snifffrankincense and you discover the terpene like citrus line. One day it is the hint of a tar note. I often get natural oils and absolutes and concretes, knowing that I will never build them into a scent, but I use them for inspiration.
There are, however, a few scents that I hardly ever work with: Styralyl acetate is one of them. I just don't like it. Thus, I skip it. I know it, but I don't use it.

PS: Can't blame you! It's hard to work with something one doesn't like. Regarding composition: Do you have some prototype in your head when composing? Or do you go along with what your nose is telling you to do? I have read about how Jean Claude Ellena is never testing things in the lab, but just pops his notebook out of his pocket and writes down ideas of accords and percentages and ratios of molecules and ingredients and then gets the assistants at the studio do the mods. Do you find yourself distanced from such a practice or not and why?

AT: Sometimes I wished I had an assistant, a busy bee, mixing what comes out of
my head, like Mr. Elena and most perfumers have. Well, I have not and there are advantages. It helps you staying close to the matiere premiere, the molecules and naturals. I usually start by thinking. How to reach a certain idea. I then sit in front of the computer, type in the formula in Excel, that does some calculations and tells me for IFRA restricted ingredients where the limits are and then I print it out and start to mix. While doing so I sniff. Often I follow the Excel formula blindly and start modifying once I have the mixed soup in front of my nose. But, when mixing, I allow myself to also follow my instinct or intuition and change things on the go. Usually, when done, I add a little drop on my hand, because I am impatient, to learn how the scent develops on the skin. But as I use a lot of naturals in my compositions, I must allow my soups to mature for at least two weeks before I can tell how a new mixture behaves. That's why things need time in perfumery.

At this point I interrupt to revert to the recent IFRA restrictions that have plagued the perfume world with dismay and raised so many questions.
He wants to be fair. He clarifies obligingly.

AT: Here, we need to cool down and look at IFRA (and other regulating bodies) in an open minded and in a fair way. I feel a lot of missunderstandings are around. Let me use an example: Oakmoss extracts.
If you want to sell perfumes in the EU countries, you have to label oakmoss
extracts, if the amount of oakmoss is beyond a threshold. There is no way around it. But you are free to use as much oakmoss as you would like in your fragrances! Thus, for us niche perfumers, this means a lot of freedom. I think this makes sense. It allows consumers who are sensitive or allergic to oakmoss extracts to make a decision based on facts. I want my customers to be able to make this decision. Most consumers do not worry about these declarations because they are not sensitive. And, because many EU label compound are present in naturals (like linalool), in a sense, a long EU declaration is almost a sign of quality! Contrary IFRA (IFRA LINK) the International Fragrance Organization: If you follow IFRA's recommendations you should not use more than 0.1% oakmoss extracts in your fragrance. Right now this is considered a safe level, at which no sensitizing happens. Now, this is a pity, of course!, and many of the big classics used oakmoss at higher concentrations. What to do now? If a perfumer does not want to follow IFRA's recommendation: He or she is totally free to do so. There is no law binding us niche perfumers to follow IFRA. I tend to follow the IFRA recommendations, because most make very much sense to me; most of them consider toxic, cancerogenic or sensitizing compounds. And so far, I have not reached a limit in expressing myself. Later, this might change, because IFRA is very much guided by big companies, having specific needs that are less important for niche perfumery.

This is very enlightening and encouraging at the same time I have to admit to him.

PS: From your own creations, is there one that holds your heart above the others? Why?/why not?

AT:There is one baby I love the most: L'air du desert marocain. I love it on the W.-factor (my friend), and I still admire the composition. I find it really well done and others seem to find this, too. So far, L'air du desert marocain is the best seller. Maybe I love it for this reason, too!

PS: {laughing} Touchee!! What are the iconic perfumes that made you dream and which are the ones you admire youself?

AT: I love the classics and also some exceptions. One of my favourites is Knize Ten, a leather fragrance with a perfect composition. Then there are the good old Guerlains, or Carons. One exception is Series Red, Palisander from Comme des Garcons. I love it for somewhat unclear reasons! Most of the stuff that comes out these days on a weekly basis, I find not good, I must admit. Hence, I have a little bit given up sniffing these new editions. I rather focus on my Jicky and try to learn there.

PS: Is Eau d'Epices you informed us on your blog the only new perfume to expect for now or are you toying with other things as well?

AT: Well..... Honest answer? I do not know. I have my doubts. The W.-factor, my friend, tells me to go forward with the Eau d'epices. But time will tell. I have not made my mind up. There is no need to hurry things. There are a few fragrances in work, either in batch mode or rather actively. Two of the almost finished scents are the hyacinth/mechanic and the frankincense. But again: No hurry. I like to let my fragrance prototype sit for a while. And then, after a few months, I look at them again and make up my mind.

PS: Glad we cleared that up. So...aces up your sleeve! And your plans for the line in the future? Regarding additions, possible limited editions, distribution and positioning?

AT: My plans are very specific as far as my time is concerned that I devote to perfumery and building the business. By end of October I will reduce my other "normal" job. With more time at hand I want to follow some ideas as far as distribution channels are concerned. (And I want from time to time a free weekend..) But very carefully. I do not want to be present in too many places and I have a set of excellent distributors right now. But a perfumery here and there might not harm. About adding more fragrances to my portfolio.Hmmmm...... Sure there will come more. Sooner or later. But -as mentioned before- there is time. If I think of L'air du desert marocain and my zero marketing so far, then I feel that there is a huge untapped potential. Of course, it is fun to create perfumes and then think about labels and packaging. And bringing a new scent to the market is really exciting. But from a business point of view, I should not forget my babies that are sitting on the shelf already.


We stop here this interesting discussion with the promise to catch up when his Eau d'epices is finally out.(Of which I have been privy of testing and I can tell you dear readers, he has another hit on his hands! But more later on!).
I can safely say that knowing a little of Andy Tauer has been great and it was very rewarding talking to him. I just hope he is as satisfied from this glimpse into his world as we are. Thanks Andy!



Pic of Andy Tauer by himself.
Pic of Flyer for Reverie au jardin by Andy Tauer

Tuberose Gardenia by Estée Lauder Private collection: fragrance review

Coming across the new Tuberose Gardenia by Estée Lauder was not an accident. It was thanks to a very thoughtful person who was able to obtain a precious sample for me and sent it against all odds for my tentative sampling. Gratitude is in order.

No hesitation was necessary on my part, though, regarding testing the elusive jus that is featuring as the first stepping stone on the new Private Collection by Estée Lauder, a line that will be positioned between niche and mainstream: limited distribution on the one hand (Neiman Marcus, Saks, Bergdorf Goodman, Holt Renfrew), but relatively sane prices on the other. The concept was masterminded by Aérin Lauder, the granddaughter of ingenious Estée, who is working as Creative Director of the huge brand. The name Private Collection recalls the cool upscale scent of tennis lawns and cool drinks sipped at a Hamptons party that Estee herself called her own and which Grace Kelly admired and asked to partake in, to great aplomb. That scent featured all the aloofness of an east coast heiress and a sophistication that befitted the empress of a multimillion company such as Lauder. Tuberose Gardenia is a different animal, nevertheless.

As I opened the carded sample, spraying with eager, childish anticipation the pale yellow liquid, with its shimmering gold cap, I was immediately reminded of a favourite literary accompaniment to my teenager escapades pertaining to summer. It is a book involved in a strange ritualistic process which I am not ashamed to share with you. With each passing summer in the course of my life so far, this book has been my introduction to the joys and anticipations of a summer spent in the sensuous atmosphere of southern Europe. A book that keeps me young at heart. Every June it gets pulled off the shelf to rapidly leaf through it and remind myself of the hopes and longings of its precious characters of three teenager girls, who search for their inner core through the little adventures of first loves and self-discovery in the milieu of then rural, now uptown suburb of Kiffisia, where they are vacationing with their divorced mother, their artistic and pretentious aunt and their dotting but love-hurt grandfather through three consecutive summers.
The book is called "Three Summers"/"The straw hats" (the latter is the literal translation from Greek) by Margarita Lymperaki, a Francophile Greek writer.
Please read a bit about it courtesy of boutique.info-grece.com:

"That summer we bought big straw hats. Maria's had cherries around the rim, Infanta's had forget-me-nots, and mine had poppies as as fire. When we lay in the hayfield wearing them, the sky, the wildflowers, and the three of us all melted into one..."
"Three Summers" is the story of three sisters growing up in Greece: their first loves, lies, and secrets, their shared childhood experiences and their gradual growing apart. Maria, the oldest, is strong, sensual, keenly aware of society's expectations. Infanta is beautiful, fiercely proud, aloof. Katerina is spirited, independent, off in a dream world of her own. There is also the mysterious Polish grandmother, the wily Captain Andreas, the self-involved Laura Parigori... Katerina tells the story of these intertwined lives with imagination, humour, deep tenderness, and a certain nostalgia. "Three Summers" is a romance with nature, with our planet. It is the declaration of a young girl in love with life itself.

The book is available here.

Tuberose Gardenia reminded me of exactly that book. There is an innocence and a wiling beauty in it simultaneously. It encompasses elements of all three girls, as it smells fresh, creamy, soft and inviting, yet also assured and independent.

White florals are an agony, an ache, an olfactory rape almost. They tend to grab you and place their hooks on you or else repel you and make you coil in desperation.
As Colette famously wrote:

"She, the tuberose. She would set off on the sirocco wind, cross the road, force open my door with all her flowerly might and softly climb the stairs...a cloud of dreams burst forth and grows from a single, blossoming stem, an unthreatened peace"

And gardenia, with its elusive white creamed clotted density amidst green buds rotting ever so sweetly on the jacket lapel of a dark handsome stranger who is meant to sweep you off your feet, is the flower of spiritual surrender.
Those two voluptuous blossoms dominate the heart and soul of Lauder's new fragrance, never betraying their nature, yet remaining ever soft and very wearable, unlike the olfactory typhoon of assertive Fracas. An initial fresh opening that is reminiscent of lemon groves overlooking countryhouses where potted tuberoses are kept takes you on a journey to an inner closed court with a fountain, Moor-style, where gardenias are kept in big pots. Their aroma mingling night and languor, beckoning you, beguiling you. The gardenia accord smells surprisingly true in this. There is no tropical ambience a la Carnal Flower by F.Malle, a tuberose with which I am nevertheless flirting shamelessly, nor is there the airiness of the lighter Do Son by Diptyque which is more suited to the intense heat of late summer.
Tuberose Gardenia combines freshness and ever so slight spicy richness in linear laps of sillage-worthy swims into a vat of smooth vanillic cream.

Official notes:
neroli, lilac, rosewood, tuberose, gardenia, orange flower, jasmine, white lily, carnation and vanilla bourbon.

Tuberose Gardenia launches in August and will be available in bottles of Eau de Parfum in 30/1oz or 75ml/2.4oz and Parfum extrait of 30ml/1oz in a beautiful bottle of gold bearing gems encrusted to it, which has been inspired by a Josef Hoffmann jewel brooch.
The line is to be completed by a Body cream and a solid perfume.
Click here to see the beautiful packaging.


Pic originally uploaded on MUA by lipslikesugar, pic of gardenia originally uploaded by Indie perfumes blog

The Agony and the Ecstasy part3: Fetish in fragrance

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The Agony and the Ecstasy part2: control and surrender in fragrance

Continuing from yesterday’s post, today we occupy ourselves with the matter of control versus surrender as manifested in matters of relationships as well as sensual escapades that pertain to olfaction.

The amount of control we exercise in indulging our fragrant desires is not proportionate to the pleasure thus derived. On the contrary it varies according to the occasion and circumstances. Although usually control is assumed to be a desirable quality and one that is highly regarded, especially in western society with its competitive background, it is often that it also acts as a binding force that ties us to refusal of sensuous pleasure. The latter could be best arrived at through surrender to stimuli that have or have not been chosen by us in the first place. Imagine the surprising whiff of baking goods when walking past a bakery or the intoxication of smelling a familiar aroma on a stranger passing us on the street. Those are instances in which our degree of control of what we perceive is close to nil. Yet we derive pleasure from them.
Of course one could very well argue that the reverse is also within the sphere of probability. A close encounter with a smell that has foul associations in our mind makes the proximity with the vessel that perpetuates it insufferable, a true torture. In those instances we would dearly wish that we could exercise control over what we actually smell.
Surrender also has a somewhat fatalist tone to it, as if there is some predestined course of events, a kismet that accounts for our experiences instead of us shaping our present and future. The matter quickly becomes philosophical, which is perhaps beyond the scope of this post.

If we were to investigate cinematic examples of this conflict we revert to the 1960s classic by Spanish master director Luis Buñuel “Belle de jour”.
In it Catherine Deneuve stars as Séverine, the repressed wife of Pierre, an upper class doctor; sexually frigid with him, yet harbouring fantasies of a sadomasochistic nature which lead her to become a day-time high class prostitute in a posh brothel run by a knowledgeable French woman. There her fantasies take shape and form, although often following alternative avenues that include Chinese sex toys, assimilated necrophilia and voyeurism. However, although Séverine would like to act out her fantasies with her husband whom she loves, she capitulates to men to whom she is indifferent to in a surrender of the senses that satisfies some inner need that cannot be met in her bourgeois existence. Her rencontre with a criminal youth and also with an acquaintance who exerts control over her in daring tones –as he is intrigued by her iciness which he hopes to shatter- in her regular impeachable life will forever alter her cosmos and make her the victim or the culprit of fate.
As the director himself said:

"All my life I've been harassed by questions: Why is something this way and not another? How do you account for that? This rage to understand, to fill in the blanks, only makes life more banal. If we could only find the courage to leave our destiny to chance, to accept the fundamental mystery of our lives, then we might be closer to the sort of happiness that comes with innocence."

The whole layout of the film exploits many ideas that pertain to youth (the distinct innocence of youth preyed on by the older, more experienced man played by Michel Picolli); to class and elegance of a bourgeois aesthetic (the impeccably decked in Yves Saint Laurent couture Séverine wearing Roger Vivier classic buckle low pumps is a fashion plate for eternity); to fantasy vs reality (what is true and what happens inside Séverine’s head? The end is particularly ambiguous). The viewer is left to decide for themselves interpreting clues any way they choose. This is especially evident in the scene in which a client at the brothel brings a Chinese box to use, upon perusing which all the other girls shudder except for Séverine who remains fascinated. Asked on what the box included the director was quick to comment that there was no point in it containing anything in particular, as the scene was meant to signify the vast difference of mentality between the heroine and the other girls.

One particularly brilliant moment that pertains to perfume and our issue is the scene in the bathroom when Séverine accidentally smashes a big bottle of Mitsouko by Guerlain before she sets out to spend the afternoon at the brothel. (It can be seen in the trailer attached below, clicking on the screen). The bottle is in the big round style with the pyramid stopper that was quite popular all through the Sixties.


Mitsouko is a perfect example of a scent that is implicated in sex and the issues of control vs surrender. Much like the literary heroine that inspired its name (the Japanese girl in the novel “La Bataille”) it has a rich heart and sensual base that extol an animalic presence of labdanum and the earthiness of oakmoss and vetiver which combine to give the more ethereal elements of floral notes a subversive mantle. Although Mitsouko has all the pedigree of a well brought up upper-class lady, this is only the surface which one could easily scrape to find a ferocious needy sensuality about to manifest itself in surprising throes.

Another one of Catherine Deneuve’s brilliant roles in a film by the same director is “Tristana”, a different take on the issues of control vs surrender. The setting in this one is quite different than the rich upscale Parisian apartment of Séverine that makes us dream of an idle pampered existence that is laced with naughty fantasies. Instead Tristana is a poor orphan girl in a Spanish village trust into the care of an older gentleman, the respected due to his honorable nature (despite his socialistic views about business and religion) Don Lope. Nevertheless the one flaw of Don Lope is his weakness towards women and he seduces Tristana, all the while saying that she is as free as he is. He will have to face the consequences though, when she in turn acts on this freedom, when -upon becoming his wife- she tortures and humiliates the husband she despises.
The subjects of fascism vs socialism, old age, Catholicism and sex are relentlessly explored and in the end the innocent girl becomes a cynical wile woman who believes in nothing any more while the worldly Don Lope played by Fernando Ray becomes rather belatedly the father figure that Tristana needed in the first place. As he reaches the peace he was pursuing all along he exclaims 'It's snowing so hard outside, but in this house, I'm nice and warm. What's there not to be happy about?' It is poignant that he recognizes only too late that acceptance, surrender to the course of life is a surer way to inner peace than struggling to impose one’s will.

Watch the "Tristana" trailer clicking on the screen.


Because to my mind there is an inherent melancholic touch to what I interpret as the loss of innocence, the perfume that I would choose to anoint the beautiful Tristana with is none other than L’Heure Bleue by Guerlain. One of their great classics, issued in 1912, it was inspired by “the blue hour”, that magical moment when the sun has set, but the sky hasn’t yet found its stars, when the odour of flowers intensifies.
Wearing L'Heure Bleue is like partaking in a secret rite of passage that an innocent soul goes through to meet their unintended destiny, just like Tristana in her quest for true love. The bittersweet smell of aniseed is the poignant thread that travels through the journey of life, full of experiences, full of disappointments that make the heart strings ache. Cloves and powdery heliotrope providing the backdrop of a darker theme, while the heady damascene rose and jasmine shine as the memorable sweet moments of happiness found adrift an existence that exerts no control over facts. As the scent of L'heure bleue unfolds, you are left with an impression of rejection, of refusal, of an idealism that is crashed by the vagaries of life that makes me inwardly sigh for all the lost causes and dreams that might have been.
It is also one of Catherine Deneuve's personal choices of perfume in her vast wardrobe of fragrances and I can very well see how she might be partial to its soft caress that whispers of times past.

Next post will persist in this genre with more perfume references. Stay tuned!


Pics from film Belle de Jour courtesy of toutsurdeneuve. Portrait of Deneuve by Raymond Darollet courtesy of Toutsurdeneuve. Clips from Youtube

The Agony and the Ecstacy part1: sadomasochism in fragrance

The rather outré title of this new latest series on Perfume Shrine is not meant as a direction to non-perfume venues of a niche of a quite different nature than that of the likes of afficionados of Lutens or Malle. Because here we will most certainly include perfume references by those two and lots of others, exploring just how certain scents play up on our subconscious and produce feelings of sensual surprise, olfactory submission and adoring intimidation or on the contrary a heightened sense of domination over all we survey.
If only Le Marquis and Leopold von Sacher had explored those avenues more fully.

Before we proceed any further, please note that the following are musings and thoughts that do not bind the author and are not meant to condone or approve of any practice or misunderstanding that you might have in mind. (This disclaimer of sorts is necessary to include because the term has been so much abused and tied to issues that are peripheral to it that it has gained a reputation that is inaccurate).

Perfume is fantasy. It has a weird effect on the psyche. And tied as it is to memory and sexuality it brings out elements of both to the fore, whether we desire it or not. Of course apart from the infamous Hirsch studies on what scents arouse and attract the opposite sex ~which are the matter of Googling searches all the time~ more importantly there is the element of how a particular fragrance makes the wearer themselves feel. This is the apex of the matter to my mind. Because perfume is so often worn for the enhancement of a mood or the desire to extol certain properties of the individual's personality, how one perceives said personality or mood is paramount when choosing what to wear. So a perfume with innocent, cherubic ambience would be more likely to evoke or pronounce a mood of traditionally viewed submissive femininity whereas a butch leather would reinforce the notion of a dominating persona. Or even the reverse if one is playing with boundaries and values the element of surprise!
Therefore are there specific perfumes that explore those pathways of the mind and playfully twist and turn them upside down for a perfume lover's rejoice? I think there are.

As cinematic experiences are so often deeply ingrained into Perfume Shrine, the quintessential film that displays the weird dynamic of an S/M relationship resplendent with a couple of perfume references is none other than "Il Portiere di Notte"/"The Night Porter"(1974) by Liliana Cavani featuring exquisite actors and personal favourites Dirk Bogarde and Charlotte Rampling. The film tells the tale of an ex-Nazi who falls in love with one of the Holocaust victims as many years later, both alive ~she, Lucia, a married woman; he, Max, a night porter~ they meet again at a Vienna hotel and reprise their strange affair surrounded by a hostile former Nazi crowd who seeks to gain power again with Max's assistance.
The doomed relationship of the two lovers reflects both aspects of control and surrender in alternating roles of great cinematic value. And although the mere thought of the Holocaust is assuredly distressing, the film manages to be respectful of the issues raised and focus on the personal angle rather than the historical repercussions.
You can watch a superb clip of it clicking on the screen or clicking here.


For an elaborate and long piece of how a viewer interprets the storyline I direct you to this post by The Scented Salamander.
Succinctly put:

Perfumes in Night Porter appear to be used to express ideas about sexuality, class, and inter-subjective relationship. Perfumes here, instead of elevating and idealizing the characters, making them appear more desirable and noble, are brought in to express not love, but prostitution, not attraction, but repulsion, not refinement but coarseness, not harmony, but destruction, not love, but a pathological manifestation of it.

There is also this link that mentions it in the context discussed.

Indeed perfumes in this film are seen through an altered lens and make us view scent as a means of control, rejection, social climbing or even manipulation and domination. It is an interesting axe to grind and worth pondering on.
So what would the ex-Nazi in hiding wear or the beautiful formerly submissive Lucia who reprises her role with a twist of unexpected ferocity?

As leather has been so ingrained into associations with S/M and isobutyl quinoline is the main ingredient used to render leather notes in perfumery, apart from the natural process of curing birch tar, I would propose Knize Ten for the character of Max. The fact that it comes from as far back as 1924 and Vienna in particular did not escape my attention either and may have contributed to this choice.
The history of Messrs. J. Knize dates back to 1858, based in Vienna. Within a little while fashion tailor J. Knize was appointed purveyor to K&K Royal Court and by the turn of the century many famous people, heads of states, artists, and industrialists were clientele to Knize. During the 1920s Knize's boutiques for men were established in the fashion cities of Paris, New York, London and Berlin. Although other scented offerings by Knize have been discontinued the iconic perfume remains still in production.
The fragrance is immediately redolent of raw cured leather that is pitch-black and tight, fits like a glove and is stained with the old fashioned aroma of smoke and a bit of turpentine. This shocking introduction laced with citrusy notes is testament to the power and suggestion such a smell holds over willing subjects. Woody and floral notes of subtle spiciness tone down this perverse beast resting it on a slightly powdery and incensy drydown that surprises yet again with its unexpected twists. Max in it would exude all the force of his uniformed days, when he could chop off the head of a prisoner who bothered his lover and present it John-the-Baptist-like to his own Salome. And yet he would also hide the pain that we can see in his eyes as he realises that there is no future for them, when they dare to exit the bastion of their seiged apartment towards dawn.

And Lucia would be sublime wearing none other than the infamous, the exquisite, the jarringly sexy beauty of Tubéreuse Criminelle (=criminal tuberose) by Serge Lutens.
Its reputation precedes it as people either love it or hate it but they all remain astounded by the sheer innovation of it at the time it first launched, directing others into exploring difficult notions of bracing top notes that might shock and disturb. A scent that is definitely meant for people into a certain degree of sadomasochism, as the opening note of mentholated Vicks rub hits your nostrils with the ferocity of a typhoon to subside after a little while into an armload of rubbery tuberose married to soft spoken buttery lilies. A soothing, warm, human caress after the sting of pain.
Comparable to what Jean Cocteau had said about Marlen Dietrich and her name: "Starts with a caress; ends with a whipstroke". But in reverse. Which makes it eminently suitable...


Next post will continue with more perfume and film suggestions on the naughty path. You have been warned!

Top pic courtesy of sadist.gr Clip comes from Youtube. Pic of Knize Ten comes from basenotes.net. Pic of Charlotte Rampling from charlotterampling.net